Of Masochists and Marriage
by heteroceric-heart
Summary: He hadn’t really imagined doing this now, of all places: riding a bumpy bus while sitting next to a snoring man who smelled strongly of whiskey. He was on a roll, though, and he had to get this out while it was flowing so easily.


A/N: This story was mostly inspired by Kate Nash's song "Birds." And when I say "inspired," I mean I looped that song on my iTunes for...seventy- three times while I wrote this story. When I first heard it, I really wanted to write a story about it, and this couple popped into my mind. I had a lot of fun writing this, and I only hope I kept both of them in character. Apologies if they seem a bit OOC; I did my best.

Anyway, enjoy (and please review)!

* * *

**Of Masochists and Marriage**

It was times like these, when she tried so desperately to distract herself, that caused strange thoughts to sift through Rika's mind.

Blurred, garbled announcements droned from invisible speakers scattered across the terminal. To amuse herself, she tried to decipher what the monotonous voice was attempting to say, but quickly grew annoyed with defeat. She was baffled how people understood what those stupid things were supposed to be saying, anyway. It really was a miracle people were able to glean important information from that disembodied sound. She wondered if it was some sort of language private to those scurrying adults that frequented the rails.

Everywhere she looked, people were rushing about: men rushing from their trains to catch the next, women rushing after oblivious children who had wandered off. There was an air of hectic chaos beating in time with the stop and start of trains. Tension coated the area with a nearly-tangible presence, barely stringing everything together.

She wondered what would happen if that string were to be cut, if all the flailing puppets were forced to slow down and relax their tireless limbs.

A bright-eyed child caught Rika's eyes. She was a pretty little girl, probably no older than six, clasping tightly to her mother's hand. A much-abused (much-loved, Rika mentally corrected) rabbit doll hung loosely from the little girl's hand. As she and her mother pushed their way through the crowd, one impatient man shoved them roughly aside. The mother, not giving any notice, wearily continued to drag her daughter through the crowds. The little girl, however, was tugging on her mother's hand and trying to go back the way they'd come. Her little rabbit, knocked loose by the encounter with the brusque man, lay on the terminal floor a little distance back.

When her mother continued to ignore her, the girl ripped her hand away and fled to her fallen friend. She grasped the stuffed animal with a warm smile, that special, unconditional love unique to children lighting up her face.

Rika smiled. She'd never admit it, but she loved children. No, she didn't think she could be a very good mother, but she loved them all the same. They were so imaginative, so innocent, so trusting.

It was a shame that imagination was eventually stifled, innocence was quickly tarnished, and trust was abused.

The little girl's expression darkened slightly with the pain emanating from her mother's too-tight grip on her arm. The frazzled woman was berating the child, and Rika could hear shouted snippets of the reprimand from where she sat. Suddenly, the mother's manicured hand rose from her knee and slapped the little girl straight across her face.

Next to her leg, Rika's fist curled subconsciously. Her eyes flashed angrily and sought to keep the parent and child in their sights, but both were soon lost within the tide.

She felt sick. Some people should never procreate.

An appreciative whistle cut through her thoughts, causing her frown to deepen. She uneasily shifted her legs, all the while keeping a dangerous scowl on her face. She didn't see who the culprit was through the throng of commuters, which was probably a benefit for both parties. She doubted the man in question wanted his face punched in, and she certainly didn't want to be taken up on assault charges.

A slight blush of embarrassment crept under her skin. That whistle had effectively de-distracted her from what she'd been trying not to think about. She really didn't know why she'd done it (well, yes she did, but a part of her still rejected it), but there was no going back now. 

What had she been thinking, anyway? She'd known she'd probably have to wait for at least fifteen minutes, be subject to the public eye for fifteen minutes, so why had she done it? She certainly didn't feel comfortable right now. She almost felt betrayed by herself. What was she doing? She felt so…un-Rika right now.

Where was the girl who had once thirsted for battle? Where was the girl whose fists had finished many an argument when she'd grown too impatient with idiocy? Where was the girl who resented being treated like a girl, who was more manly than those worthless testosterone-bags littering the schoolyard?

As uncomfortable as she felt right now, Rika knew that girl was still here. She just happened to be dressed with more…femininity than she'd ever imagined.

* * *

Ryo glanced at his watch once more, a breath of impatience escaping him. He knew it was a little ridiculous to be so nervous, but he couldn't seem to help it. It was crazy, really. He'd gone through exams in a relatively calm manner, even when he realized he needed to cram ten chapters of reading material into three hours (he'd had a healthy sense of loathing for anything literary since then). He'd suffered no breakdowns, no sudden laughing or crying fits during the exams themselves, and he hadn't suffered a heart attack or stroke from the stress.

Now, however, he was sure his heart was beating at an unhealthy rate.

Subconsciously, he wiped his hands on his pants. His eyes flickered to the windows, watching as miles of tunnel swept behind him in seconds. Distantly, he noticed the other sounds of the traincar: a young child making buzzing noises (no doubt flying an exploratory airplane through this strange and exciting land), a tired mother trying to soothe her upset baby (they both needed rest, but only one would be allowed that relief), a man mumbling the headlines to himself (in disgust; where did they keep the real news?), the muffled sounds of music squeaking from a teenager's headphones (he'd been told many times that it would kill his hearing someday, but he never liked to look to the future).

No doubt all these people had pertinent reasons for being on this traincar, and for disembarking where they did. Somehow, though, (and he knew Rika would have made some dry remark about his incorrigible god-complex had she been here) he felt that his reason was why the world turned.

She _was_ the world for him.

Not that he'd ever tell her that, though. She'd probably just kick him in the shins. He chuckled at the thought; he'd missed her more than he'd thought.

So, as the station pulled into view, distorted colors solidifying into recognizable shapes, his eyes hungrily scanned the crowd outside his window for her.

He quickly slipped through the sliding doors of the traincar, brushing shoulders with the other passengers as he did so. He still searched for her as his feet hit solid pavement, and his eyes still remained empty.

For a moment, his shoulders sagged. Would she really be here? Maybe he'd misunderstood her.

Disappointment would have to be put aside for now, though. He was approaching the ticket inspector now, pushed along by the crowd, and he struggled to school his expression into one of nonchalance. He tried to rid himself of any sense of suspicion, tried to remain as invisible as possible as he slipped through the barrier, ticketless. He thought the ticket inspector might have given a double-take, but he couldn't be sure.

"Hey, Akiyama," a familiar voice cut through the overwhelming chatter of the station, "forget about me already?"

He followed her voice, grinning as he cheerfully shoved his way through angry and hassled-looking commuters. His sense of elation, though, was dampened as he looked over his shoulder. The ticket inspector was gesturing in his direction to a security guard, yelling something that did not seem to bode well for Ryo.

Nerves charged with adrenaline, Ryo waded through the remaining people that flowed between him and Rika.

Despite the urgency of the situation, he couldn't help but stop for a moment, letting a silly grin creep onto his face. She was so…well, he couldn't even describe it. It just made him warm to see her sitting there waiting for him, a sly little smirk shaping her lips.

He hastily took her hand, ignoring her protests regarding affection and public places. "Wildcat," he began, knowing that she secretly loved the nickname, how it was something reserved solely for her, "you don't know how much I've missed you, how much I've looked forward to this moment above so many others, but right now we need to run."

She looked at him, amused, as they dashed through the multitude of people. "Mind explaining this little adventure, Akiyama?"

He just flashed her a long-suffering look, letting out a heavy sigh. "I'm just some poor college kid. Do they _really_ expect me to pay for every little train ticket?"

She rolled her eyes. "You're terrible."

"Yet justified," he argued between breaths. "After all, this train station might not have even been here if I hadn't helped save it from the D-Reaper. Really, you save an entire population and you're not even granted one measly little ticket."

"So, I take it the Freshman Fifteen didn't knock any of your arrogance down," Rika said slyly, looking at him from the corner of her eye.

Ryo raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you trying to imply that I am no longer the epitome of physical prowess, dear Rika?"

"Well," she said, a smirk lacing her smile, "you are breathing pretty hard, Akiyama."

He just laughed; she joined in, exhilarated, as they dashed around a corner and into the sunlight.

They stood panting for a moment, giddy smiles painting their faces. Ryo's eyes, after scanning the bustling streets for a moment, caught sight of a bus stop. Giving Rika's hand a gentle tug, he led them toward the circular sign and the bench beside it. Ryo dug into the backpack slung over his shoulder, eventually finding a few old bus cards. As if the world was in tune with their scheme, a bus rolled through a green light down the road and parked next to the curb where they were standing.

Rika looked at him skeptically. "You just happen to have travel cards for today?"

He winked at her. "No, but I do have some from last year."

She looked at him, incredulous. "You can't expect this to work," she said, but she took the proffered card anyway.

She made him go first, expecting him to be caught by the bus driver (and this one, she remembered, was particularly cantankerous). He ascended the stairs slowly, filing in alongside the other passengers. When his turn came, he flashed the travel card to the driver. The man just looked bored, hardly noticing Ryo's existence.

Shaking her head at Ryo's luck and his general cheekiness, Rika followed suit with similar results.

She squeezed her way through the crowded aisle, occasionally bumping a knee or elbow, as she made her way to Ryo. He'd already chosen a seat near the middle, and his hand was laid casually, yet possessively, on the seat beside him.

Rika felt a surge of appreciation as she scooted to the seat he had saved her. He'd known for a long time how much she hated crowds, especially on places like this, and her aversion for the people who frequented public transport. He'd given her a window seat.

She and Ryo let out a simultaneous sigh as the bus lurched into motion once more. They gave each other a questioning look before dissolving into silent laughter.

Ryo's eyes lingered on Rika's, and she noticed he'd taken her hand again. She watched as his gaze surreptitiously traveled over the rest of her body, taking in every aspect of her—right down to her shapely, skirt-covered legs.

Had it been any other man looking at her this way, Rika no doubt would have ensured that man could never see straight again. With Ryo, though…Well, a part of her still wanted to punch him square in the jaw, but the other, skirt-wearing part of her wanted to do something else entirely.

"You look nice," he said suddenly, snapping her out of her thoughts.

"So, I don't look like I've just been abducted by a crazy man with empty pockets?" she said sarcastically, trying to gloss over his compliment. Inside, though, she felt a rush of heat through her stomach. He thought she looked nice. That was the sole reason she'd ever even contemplated wearing a skirt this morning, anyway. She'd wanted to see his face when he finally saw her in something remotely feminine, when he realized she trusted him enough to do so.

"Not empty," he joked. "I've still got a hell of a lot of old travel cards left."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence after that, quietly enjoying each other's company, the warmth of each other's hand. Ryo turned to study her, though, watching as her eyes flickered with the passing landscape. He still couldn't believe she'd ever agreed to date him in the first place, why she'd ever let him within her ironclad fortress. Those eyes had always been something akin to violet ice, but they seemed to flutter with all the passion of a river when he saw them now. For some reason, Rika had decided to give him a chance, and he couldn't be happier. Sure, they weren't perfect (what was worth obtaining in the world that was perfect, anyway?), but they'd pulled through every fight with a stronger bond.

He'd like to think that he made her just as happy as she made him.

"What are you thinking about, Akiyama?" Rika asked, suspicion (only half-teasing) in her voice.

He knew he was treading on dangerous ground, but he took a deep breath and explained, "I'm trying to find the appropriate words to describe you, actually."

"Oh really?" she said, a hint of warning implied in her tone. "Lay it on me, then."

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Ryo asked lightheartedly, even though his own heart was heavy with impending doom. "I mean, it's probably going to get pretty sappy."

"Whatever," Rika scoffed. "I had to babysit Suzi last night. Five and a half hours of Disney movies and fairy tales have most likely made me impervious to any sort of sappiness."

"Okay then," Ryo began, "Well—"

"Nevermind," Rika interjected quickly. "My sleep-deprived mind just processed what this conversation has been about. You are _not_ allowed to start gushing about how my eyes are like rainbows or how I make unicorns dance around your brain, or something," she threatened (only half-teasing).

Ryo laughed. "Trust me, that's not what I was going to say. And," he interrupted as she opened her mouth to protest further, "_you_ are not allowed to stop me now. You, quite literally, asked for this."

Rika clamped her mouth shut and raised her eyebrows with a silent challenge of: Well, alright, go on.

Ryo took a moment to gather his thoughts, staring at the street as their bus pulled up to a stoplight. "Okay," he began slowly, semi-lost in his train of thought, "you see all that outside? Do you see all the trees in the park, but all the damage done to their bark and branches? Do you see all those people rushing down the sidewalk, but all the litter that's under their feet, all the broken glass and cigarette butts? All of that, _all_ of that, is how much I like you."

Rika gave him a bemused stare. "What?" She had no idea what he'd just said. What was he trying to get at? This was pretty cryptic, even for Ryo.

"Sorry," Ryo laughed softly, "I'll try and explain it better." He licked his lips nervously and studied the scene outside the window more thoroughly. He watched as a street vendor shooed away a sparrow with a rolled-up newspaper; the startled bird fluttered away hastily, flapping its wings in the face of an equally-startled pedestrian. Ryo's eyes lit up eagerly. "You're like a bird." Her puzzlement only seemed to deepen, so he hastily continued, "Birds can fly so high without even thinking about it; how many humans would kill just for that? That sense of height gives them power without them even realizing it. Most humans are uneasy around birds, because we as a species have always had an innate fear of them. When you stop and look closer, though, you see how damn beautiful they are, no matter how frightening they might seem. And you know it might be easy to capture that beauty, to lock it up within a cage, but you'd never look at it with the same sense of wonder. It's the freedom of the bird that gives it a lot of its beauty, and it makes it that much greater when one flies down to you out of its own accord."

"Are you trying to say you're afraid I'm going to shit on your head someday, Akiyama? Because as funny as that would be, I don't think it's going to happen," Rika asked off-handedly, trying to steer this away from where she thought it was going. Ryo sounded so serious, so ardent, and it scared her. She really had no idea what to do.

"Not at all," Ryo indulged her with a little chuckle, but the look in his eyes didn't change. He hadn't really imagined doing this here, of all places: riding a bumpy bus on year-old tickets while sitting next to a snoring man who smelled strongly of whiskey. He was on a roll now, though, and he had to get this out while it was flowing so easily. "But that, what you just said, is one of the reasons I like you so much. I like that you're a wildcat and not a housecat. I like how you can stand on your own two feet, how you could probably get along okay without me but you still stick around. I like how strong you are, how you never let anyone walk over you. I like how you never let anything go unquestioned, how you like to argue and banter about things. I love your sharp tongue, your quick wit, how you can wear a skirt and still look intimidating enough to scare off even the most confident hotheads. I love how you say exactly what's on your mind without censoring it, how you swear like a sailor when you feel like it. I love that you don't hide from the world because you fear you might get scars. You're like those trees in the park, with their scratched-away engravings, like the bits of broken glass that crunch under people's feet; you may not be perfect, but whenever I see you, I feel an overwhelming sense of _life, _and that's more beautiful than anything perfect in the world."

Rika was just staring at him, stunned. Her mouth was slightly open, testament to her current state of incredulity. She wasn't sure what exactly to think after hearing a speech like that, but something Ryo had said had struck her. She really wasn't good with this mushy stuff; she'd only suffered through Suzy's Disney-fest by mocking the cheesy romance in her head. She'd always scoffed when other girls at school had gushed about their boyfriends, how they had told them they were more lovely than roses in moonlight and other crap like that. She'd gagged at the cliché and promised she'd never let herself get choked up over some stupid line like that in the future.

She'd never expected to be compared to broken beer bottles, though.

"Love?" she finally spluttered out, almost without having meant to. "You kept saying…you loved things about me."

"Yeah, I did," Ryo said seriously, not bothering to try and deny anything. "I do."

"You _love_ that I cuss so damn much?" Rika quipped.

"Well, I love you as a whole, but I love all those little things, too, yeah."

"What? What are you saying?" she demanded, almost angry.

"Things I've been trying to articulate for months."

The bus pulled to their stop, and several people in front of them began rising from their seats. Not looking at Ryo, Rika climbed to the aisle and began disembarking from the bus. She could hear Ryo scrambling behind her, trying to catch up. As soon as her feet hit the sidewalk, she quickly began walking away from the bus stop, only barely noticing the skirt flapping against her legs.

_Damn skirt_, she cursed the article of clothing internally. _You're what started this whole mess._

"Rika!" Ryo called as he fled the mass of people crowding the bus doors. He chased after the bolting girl desperately, terror lending speed to his steps.

She stopped at a crosswalk, clearly frustrated by the red, lit-up 'Don't Walk' sign. She paused to change direction only for a moment, but it was enough time for Ryo to catch up to her. "Rika," he said, panicked. "I'm sorry, I—"

"Why did you have to do that?" she interrupted, not turning around to look at him.

"I just—"

"Things were going perfectly alright, and then..."

"Look, I'm sorry," Ryo said, defeated.

Rika turned around to him, letting out a long sigh. "What are you apologizing for? Sure, it was a little sappy, but it wasn't bad even for you, Akiyama."

"What?" he asked, bemusement (and a bit of hope) fortifying the word.

"I like you too, you idiot."

"You just…_like_ me?" Ryo said after a moment, his heart sinking. Maybe this was her way of telling him it was over. He was so stupid. Because of that emotional outburst he'd had, he might have lost her forever.

Rika deciphered the look on his face easily, and she crossed her arms. "Don't make me say it," she demanded half-heartedly. Ryo still looked so damn hopeless and confused, though, so she knew he hadn't caught on. He probably never would unless she spelled it out for him, the idiot. "Oh fine then," she acquiesced, a light layer of red staining her cheeks. "I love you, okay?"

"Oh. Cool," Ryo stuttered, taken off-guard. He'd been so ready to hear a break-up speech from her that she'd taken him completely by surprise with her declaration. A feeling of warmth, of ecstatic relief, flowed throughout him. She loved him. Of all things he'd been expecting, that'd been the last thing he'd ever thought would come from her lips. As much as he wanted to just run around, screaming with joy, he just asked, with a little frown on his face, "Then, if you don't mind me asking, why are you mad?"

"Because…because now everything's so much more complicated!" she exclaimed, swinging her arms wildly. "Before, neither of us had any expectations. It was just nice, semi-mushy fun. Now that this is out, though, it makes everything so serious. I mean, I'm still in high school, Ryo, and you're just starting college, and…and I don't want to be some sort of overstressed, crappy mom that slaps her own kid, okay? I'm not ready for that!" Rika yelled, a frantic expression coating her face. She cracked her knuckles absentmindedly, displaying the nervous habit she'd yet to grow out of.

"Whoa, whoa, hold on there. How did we go from 'I love you' to 'Let's make babies?'" Ryo asked, amused even despite Rika's obvious distress. "Listen, nothing's changed," he assured her, prying her hands apart and taking them within his own. "I've loved you for a long time, and I think you're smart enough to have realized it was at least a possibility. Just because I've said it out loud doesn't mean our lives are going to flip upside down. We can still have nice, semi-mushy fun, I promise."

Rika looked at him suspiciously, trying to judge whether he was being absolutely honest with her. After a moment of scrutinizing the older boy's face, her shoulders relaxed. He really did mean everything he'd said. "Okay. But you'd better not mention the m-word if you know what's good for you," she threatened, her eyes narrowing.

"M-word? What's that?" Ryo asked, genuinely perplexed.

"Don't make me say it."

Realization dawned on Ryo, and a teasing smile made its way onto his face. "Mice? Macaroni? Mitochondria? M—"

"_Marriage_, you idiot," she hissed, uttering it as if it was the foulest curse to ever cross the lips of man.

He chuckled at the vehement look on her face. "Alright, I promise: no m-word," he vowed, as much for as his own safety as for her peace of mind. "Can I at least say the l-word?" he asked after a moment, a joking spark in his eyes.

Rika, however, did not share the joke. She just raised an eyebrow at him, silently explaining: I know what you're trying to do, and I'm not falling for it.

"Aren't you going to ask me what the l-word is?" Ryo persisted, letting go of one of Rika's hands and starting to walk down the sidewalk with her.

"I'm not going to play along," Rika said flatly.

"Love. Can I tell you that I love you, Rika?" Ryo asked jovially, a grin splitting his face from ear to ear.

Rika just snorted impassively. "Whatever."

"Because I do," Ryo continued, tightening his grip on her hand. "I love you, I love you, I love you…" he said blissfully, stretching out the phrase in varying ways, savoring the way it felt each time he said it.

"I _will_ kick you, Akiyama," Rika growled, ripping her hand from his grasp. She would have shoved it in her pocket, but she was reminded of the fact she was wearing a skirt; thus, no pockets. This only incensed her all the more, and she settled for crossing her arms defiantly.

"I lov—damnit!" Ryo swore, hopping on one leg comically.

"What, did you think I was lying? I told you I would kick you," Rika said coolly, a smirk tugging on her lips.

"I know," Ryo divulged, limping more than was probably necessary. "I was kind of hoping you would."

"Masochist," Rika said, unable to prevent the little smile of affection that replaced her smirk.

"Well, I'd _have_ to be one in order to love you, Wildcat."

"You're going to be saying this every five seconds now, aren't you?" she groaned exasperatedly, rolling her eyes.

"Don't be so coy. You know you like it," he said mischievously.

Rika just shook her head, laughing. He knew her too well. She'd never admit it, and as much as it scared her, she really did like his over-affectionate attitude. Well, sometimes she liked it. Sometimes it just got damn annoying.

A thought struck her as she glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. "You know," she began casually. "You never _did_ kiss me hello, Akiyama."

He raised an eyebrow and grinned at her slyly. "I didn't, did I?"

Even though she'd suggested it, Rika was still taken by surprise when Ryo wrapped his arms around her, halting her momentum and pulling her close. "We'll just have to rectify that, won't we?" he muttered against her lips, closing the distance between them afterward.

And for once, as Rika's hand snaked around Ryo's neck, she really didn't mind their display of public affection all that much. She didn't think it was vulgar to be standing here with the boy she liked (loved; there, she'd said it) and reuniting with him after a long year apart. She could find nothing disgusting about the way he held her so lovingly, so securely, as he tried to express just how much he'd missed her without words.

And, frankly, anyone who thought otherwise could go to hell.


End file.
